


Ballad of Angela

by Aeolian



Series: So close that your eyes close as I fall asleep [4]
Category: Angela: Asgard's Assassin, Marvel 616
Genre: Bad Poetry, Epic Ballad, F/F, Journey, Orpheus and Eurydice Myth, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-13 07:44:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3373403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeolian/pseuds/Aeolian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hark to Angela's tale--holder of bright Naegling,<br/>Heven's greatest hunter, Hel's daring conqueror--<br/>Hark to Angela's quintessential quest!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ballad of Angela

**Author's Note:**

> So this started out in Ljothahattr, sort of picked up the meter of the Ballad of Mulan, and spiraled out of control from there. idek what's going on anymore.

Hark to Angela's tale--holder of bright Naegling,

Heven's greatest hunter, Hel's daring conqueror--

Hark to Angela's quintessential quest!

What goal did she strive for, what treasure did she seek?

Nothing did she strive for, nothing did she seek.

Once she had a helpmeet, who winnowed foes like grain,

Answered she to Sera, as strong as she was wise,

Felled prematurely by Badoon blasters.

Angela implored Death, any trade for Sera,

Voiding gladly her hoards, valueless to her now.

Nothing...came the unspoken utterance.

 

Nothing is for nothing, know Heven-taught children:

So nothing she gave to Moord, nothing she claimed in turn,

Nothing Sakaar left her, nothing Lemista shared.

Nothing, she left in her wake, nothing upon nothing,

A whole Cosmos of nothing as weregild weighed.

Turned she to Hade's throne, toward her recompense earned,

Nothing waited in those empty halls, nor did Thanatos recall guiding Sera's soul.

Leaving Hade's palace, lit she to Hela's gates,

Nothing but the sighing winds of Hel, bidding Angela to come again sometime soon.

Futile was her pursuit, for angels die soulless,

And Sera was nothing but nothing now.

 

Still, charms, gave her the conquered; chalices, gave the crushed.

Sorcery, tried the learned; sacrilege, by the damned.

Yggdrasil's roots she trailed, yearning for the Norns' boon,

Sera had links to seidr, surely the Norn helped their own.

What prize did she offer, what gift did she propose?

Nothing did she offer, nothing did she propose.

Not for nothing was Angela acclaimed.

 

Nothing for nothing, the Norns taunt Angela,

Not nothing do you seek, nor nothing shall you trade,

What will be your equivalent exchange?

"Sera's heart do I seek, so my own shall I trade,"

Wagered valiant Angela, without hesitation,

A heart for a heart, an honest exchange.

Wry-mouthed Wyrd dashed forward, wrestled it out of her chest,

Twisting it into shape, to a familiar form.

A breath the woman takes, and then another one,

But no Sera lived in that soulless shell.

 

"The wretched Norns lie," roared Angela most grieved,

Whirling gleaming Naegling, war cry at her lips,

"A heart for a heart," howled the troubled Norns,

"We did exactly as the adept asked."

 

Nothing is for nothing, nodded fair Angela,

"Not nothing do I seek, nor nothing shall I trade,

What will be my equivalent exchange?"

"Sera's soul do you seek, so your own shall you trade,"

Wagered toothless Skuld, without hesitation,

A soul for a soul, an honest exchange.

"No soul does Sera have, nor I a soul to trade,

Surely there's another cure the Norns know."

"So you've nothing to lose," hissed one-eyed Verdandi,

Reaching again within, wrenching something free.

She blew in her cupped hands, sending an icy path,

Cutting straight to the halls 'neath Nifleheim,

 

Frost clung to every curve, frozen were the guardians,

The queen of Hel herself, acquiesced and stepped aside,

"Come and take your reward; consume from Mimir's Well,

Exorbitant your price, but expect no bonus,

One sip is all even the Lord of the Gallows gained!"

 

Hearing of their return, Heven opened its gate,

Csodaszarvas pranced, chomping for his mistress,

The freemen of the Old Sea, thronged to greet them with a royal feast.

Buff your blades of ichor, burnish your bow of bone,

Wax your golden helmet, whet your osmium sword.

And go we to welcome them gladly, Angela and her magician bride,

Heven's greatest daughters jubilantly rejoined.

 

Nothing is for nothing, nothing is without price,

But love is its own reward, paying for itself twice.


End file.
